Going Up
by Mona
Summary: What happens when seven of Darkwing's enemies get stuck in an elevator together on their way to a meeting of Disney's animated series villains?


"Going Up"   
  
Disclaimer: I do not own any characters in this fic, except the Guard, the Lackey, and the mailduck. Disney owns them, and they are used without permission or profit.   
  
Author's Note: This story is sort of an interquel to another fic I'm working on called "For Bitter or For Worse."   
  
(St. Canard)   
  
"Hold it right there, Negaduck!" yelled a certain caped crimefighter as his yellow-coated nemesis was about to enter an abandoned building, his current hideout.   
  
Oh, great. Here comes the Peanut gallery. He turned to face his rival. "What?"   
  
"You know very well 'what'! You're the one who stuck fifty scorpions in a box and mailed it to SHUSH!" Though I did enjoy seeing Grizzlikoff get stung while trying to grab one.   
  
"I'd rather have sent a bomb," replied Negaduck. His voice was the usual gangster tone, but it seemed softened, as if his beak passages were blocked. "How you find me? That return address was fake."   
  
"You did a good job covering your tracks, but I, and I alone, was able to piece together the most minuscule clues and minor details -- by the way, what's wrong with your voice?"   
  
Why can't he just say he found the change of address card? "Oh, shut up! I've got a cold."   
  
Bing. Darkwing backed away, as though repelled. "Ewww! You want me to get a cold too?"   
  
"Ooh, Darkwing Duck, the fearless crimefighter afraid of a little cold virus!"  
  
"And oh, evil incarnate catching the common cold virus!"   
  
Sneeze. "I'll have you know there's nothing common about this cold!" Sneeze.   
  
The mail carrier entered. "Letter for Negaduck." He was about to add "postage due" but changed his mind when he saw the chainsaw hidden behind the addressee's back.   
  
Negaduck snatched the envelope and ran into his hideout, slamming the door behind him. He heard clicking. Drat. That meddler was trying to pick the lock. Luckily, the supervillain always had a back-up plan. He ran toward a small, sooty fireplace. It was just big enough to stand in. He pressed down the fire poker, and the fireplace spun a hundred and eighty degrees. "I knew this secret room would come in handy!" He glanced at the letter. The return address was that of a Duckburg tycoon. A tycoon by the name of Flintheart Glomgold.   
********************************************************************************  
Reginald Bushroot answered the door of his greenhouse. "May I help you?"   
  
The mail carrier reached inside his bag when he heard a growl. He looked up to see a large Venus flytrap coming toward him. "Augh!" He dropped the envelope and fled, the plant giving chase, snapping its jaws as it did so.   
  
Bushroot frowned. "Spike! I told you not to chase the mailduck! Bad Spike! Heel!" He picked up an ivory envelope from the doorstep. "Wonder what this is."   
*********************************************************************************  
Quackerjack sifted through the day's mail. "Let's see...this month's issue of Toy Time. Credit card offers. Coupons. Letter from the toy board that probably says that my toys won't be released on the open market until I start following all the safety codes again...even those stupid new ones." He opened the last one. "Yup. Baloney!" He took out a doll. "See that, Mr. Banana Brain? Whoever heard of refraining from using lead and uranium in marbles?!" The toymaker noticed the last piece of correspondence: an ivory envelope with the DVA (Disney Villains Association) crest and Flintheart Glomgold's return address. "What's this?"   
*******************************************************************************  
The mail carrier paddled through raging rapids that were once a city of St. Canard. "Good thing I was a champion backstroker in high school!" He landed on his stomach in front of the lighthouse, then got up and knocked on the door. "Hello?"   
  
The door popped open. A rat with a strange-looking hat poked his head out. "I don't have any money, I don't buy raffle tickets, and I don't want Girl Scout cookies!" He looked at the new delivery. "Oh." He snatched his mail, then zapped the deliverer.   
  
The mailduck coughed out a puff of smoke. "The entire city every morning. Through rain, snow, sleet, hail, and electric shock. Gotta love that job description."   
*******************************************************************************  
"What did Steelbeak say to do?" asked an Egg Man.   
  
A second Egg Man dialed his boss' phone number.   
  
"You have reached da number of da one and only Steelbeak. If dis is 'igh Command, dial my pager an' I will immediately respond. If dis is Deadwing Dork, drop dead. If dis is anyone else, leave a message at the laugh. Ah ah ah! Oh, an' by the way, I told youse Egg Men to ROTATE MY TIRES!"  
  
"Gee, he didn't have to say it that way," said the first Egg Man as he picked up an opened and empty ivory envelope and tossed it in the trash.   
*****************************************************************************  
The mailduck sprinted, being chased by laser fire. "I've got to get out of this flaky outfit!"   
*****************************************************************************  
The guard gripped his rifle and began to pace. His boss had given him descriptions of those he was to let in. He even knew some of them. But there was a new moon and it was nearly impossible to see. There was a loud sneeze. The guard aimed the gun. "Halt! Who goes there? Friend or foe?"   
  
"Ally," came a rough but sinusy voice.   
  
"Advance and be recognized."   
  
Negaduck came forward. "This convincing enough for you?"   
  
"I don't know. You don't sound like Negaduck."   
  
"I have a cold."   
  
"How can I be sure you're not Darkwing Duck trying to infiltrate...I mean, weren't you two voiced by the same guy?"   
  
"Do you remember last year's Disney Ducks convention?"   
  
"Yeah. Darkwing Duck had multiple broken bones, bruises, and burns. Boy, good thing we cartoon characters are practically immortal," chuckled the guard.   
  
"Key word is almost," replied Negaduck. "I can do to you what I did to Darkwing. Maybe worse. I'm not in the best mood."   
  
Audible gulp. "Pass, Negaduck."   
  
"That's Mister Negaduck to you." He entered the building and walked into the lobby, then pushed the "up" button on the elevator.   
  
Megavolt came in, followed by the Liquidator. The two made sure to keep their distances from each other.   
  
Steelbeak entered the lobby. He arched an eyebrow, but said nothing.   
  
Clanking metal announced the arrival of Taurus Bulba.   
  
Bushroot and Quackerjack were the last to arrive.   
  
The seven villains glanced at each other and shrugged, then piled into the elevator. The elevator was spacious, but it was a tight squeeze.   
  
The elevator rose.   
  
Finally, the silence was broken. "What are you doing here?!" everyone asked.   
  
Bushroot pulled out his own copy of the letter and read it out loud. "You are needed to represent your series at the first meeting of the Disney Animated Series' Antagonists' Coalition. The DASAC for short."   
  
Megavolt nodded. "Mine was worded differently, but it said the same thing."   
  
"So did mine," added the other five.   
  
"Why can't we represent our own interests?" whined Quackerjack.   
  
"Feeling forgotten? Being neglected by the Disney Villains' Association? What better way to make a name for yourself than to band together with other series villains and use force?" bubbled the Liquidator.   
  
"Yeah, as a matter of fact, we weren't in on that whole House of Mouse takeover on Halloween," commented Negaduck. "Achoo!"   
  
"Not to mention series villains have little to no merchandise," complained Quackerjack.   
  
"Who cares about toys or taking over some nightclub?" snapped Bulba. "All I want is Darkwing Duck dead and me alive to gloat over it."   
  
"Join the club," hissed Negaduck. "Achoo!"   
  
"Don't sneeze on me," snapped Steelbeak. "FOWL don't take kindly to sick days."   
  
Negaduck responded to this by sneezing on Steelbeak's white jacket. He rubbed his beak with a white handkerchief. Little skulls were embroidered with black thread and there were several brownish-red stains. "So sorry about that," he added, voice dripping with sarcasm.   
  
Taurus looked at the others. "Anyone noticed we've seemed to stop?"   
  
Bushroot shuddered. "We're stuck between floors! What could be worse?"   
  
Steelbeak reached over and pressed the emergency button.   
  
Quackerjack held up Mr. Banana Brain. "Don't you know you're not supposed to say that in a cartoon?"   
  
"I'm serious!" snapped the mutant plant duck. "What if the cable breaks and we crash all the way to the basement?"   
  
"That's not gonna happen, wimp," sighed Megavolt. "You see, the elevator's cable is made of the same stuff and thickness as what holds up the Audubon Bay Bridge. That's pretty thick. And it's attached to a pulley at the top and the pulley is powered by the main lifting motor. There's an override mechanism. When something goes wrong, the lifting motor is shut off and the main brake holds the elevator steady, wherever it is. There's an emergency generator for times like this. The lifting motor is on AC, and the generator is on DC. All that's need are some diodes to convert..." He stopped and sniffed sentimentally. "Oh, Diode."   
  
"You never cease to amaze me, Sparky," groaned Bushroot.   
  
"OOH! DON'T EVER CALL ME THAT!"   
  
"What amazes you?" asked Quackerjack. "The fact that Sparky used to have a girlfriend named Diode, or that he hates being called Sparky?"   
  
"That he can memorize how an elevator works but forget his own name."   
  
"It's hot in here," complained the Liquidator.   
  
"I just assumed it was my fever," commented Negaduck. He sneezed.   
  
Steelbeak turned around. "Licky, do me a 'uge favor."   
  
"Anything to please a fellow supervillain. What?"   
  
"Switch places with me."   
  
Taurus Bulba turned his arm into a fan and aimed it toward his face. "Go on, gentleducks. You're making the only breeze in this elevator."   
  
"When are they going to fix it?" whined Bushroot. "My foliage is drooping!"   
  
"If we run outta air in 'ere, FOWL is shoire to sue," muttered Steelbeak.   
  
"What are you guys talking about?" asked the toymaker. "This place is great!" He pulled out a rubber ball and tossed it at the wall. It ricocheted, went through the Liquidator, hit the doors at a ninety degree angle, bounced off the ceiling and hit Taurus Bulba on the head.   
  
The cyborg growled and fired a shell at Quackerjack, which missed.   
  
The jester took a hint. "We're suffocating in here! Let us out!" He crashed into his watery compatriot, who splattered drops of water.   
  
Megavolt tried to move. "Hey! Watch it! I might short circuit!"   
  
"What a life is it 'tis," sighed Steelbeak.   
  
"At least Darkwing Duck isn't here," coughed Negaduck.   
  
"You said it," agreed Taurus Bulba.   
  
"Ever notice the fact we hate that duck is the only thing we have in common?" asked Bushroot. "Otherwise we're completely different."   
  
"Maybe if you learned to get tougher," muttered Negaduck.   
  
I resent that, thought the mutant plant-duck. "I wouldn't exactly cheer to see Darkwing Duck dead, but he ruined my one chance with Rhoda and it's been downhill from there."   
  
"Reggie, if ya don't mind my saying so, I think ya should have stuck to answering poisonals ad," said Steelbeak. "Unlike you, I'd like to do the woild a favor by gettin' rid of him. My chances of ever being promoted to Chief Agent First Class are next to nil as long as he's around."   
  
Taurus Bulba leaned against the elevator wall. "He's ruined me beyond repair. How I'd love to wring the neck of that despicable, overweening, overly-sentimental..." His face was turning red, but he wasn't overheating. "Narcissistic!" He sighed. "Good thing I had that internal cooling system connected to the cellularium in my circuits."   
  
Negaduck took off his fedora and fanned himself with it. "He's like a roach. Keeps coming back. And I'm not even an organ donor."   
  
"By the way," began Megavolt. "Why do you and Darkwing--"   
  
The elevator lurched, making the villains crush into one another. Luckily Megavolt and the Liquidator didn't make contact. The doors opened, making the septet spill out.   
  
Flintheart Glomgold's lackey, McWhirtley, looked flustered. "We're so sorry about that!"   
  
"You betta be!" snapped Steelbeak.   
  
McWhirtley gulped. "Well, walk this way."   
  
The villains imitated the assistant's way of walking down the hall. A pebble became lodged in McWhirtley's sole, causing him to limp.   
  
"Why are we limping?" asked Megavolt.   
  
Quackerjack shrugged. "He told us to."   
  
McWhirtley opened a set of double doors and led the septet into a large room There were tables lining the walls, each with a different number of chairs. At the head of the room was a tallyboard and a large desk. "The rest of the Coalition isn't here yet. It takes time crossing interdimensional gateways."   
  
An elderly duck approached. He was wearing a plaid kilt and tam o' shanter. He carried a twisted cane. "Greetings," he said in a Scottish accent.   
  
"Flintheart Glomgold, I presume," squeaked Negaduck.   
  
Everyone turned to look at the yellow-jacketed duck, who looked almost like a teenage girl meeting a member of her favorite boy band.   
  
"I see my reputation precedes me," replied Flintheart, stroking his gray beard. "Anyway, I wrote those letters because I need you to represent the animated villains. Their interests. And of course, once we get this meeting rolling, we'll determine ways to get what you all want. It's what I call a win-win situation. I'll finally be the richest duck in the world--"   
  
Another figure approached. This one was human, wrapped in a long brown trenchcoat. Thick black hair poked out of his brown fedora. His most interesting feature was his skin. It was almost pure white, probably due to a pigmentation problem.   
  
"Who are you?" asked Megavolt.   
  
"I'm Moltoc, the delegate from Quack Pack," replied the stranger.   
  
"Um, Mr. Glomgold?" asked Bushroot. "Why is there seven of us and one of him? It doesn't seem very democratic."   
  
"Ah, different factors went into the number of representatives from each animated series," answered the second richest duck in the world. "Number of episodes and year produced were the main objectives. You guys are the largest delegation." The double doors opened again. Ma Beagle, surrounded by her sons as well as Magica de Spell entered. Flintheart went over to greet them.   
  
McWhirtley approached the villains from Darkwing Duck. "Can I get you all something to drink?"   
  
"Decaf cappuccino, with nonfat milk, and a whisper of cinnamon," requested Steelbeak.   
  
"Bloody Shirley, hold the vodka," said Negaduck.   
  
"Pure water, no heavy metals," added Bushroot.   
  
"Fruit fizzy," Quackerjack answered.   
  
"Nothing for me," went the Liquidator.   
  
"Motor oil cocktail," Bulba said sarcastically.   
  
Megavolt crossed his arms. "Phooey! I can't touch liquid unless I drain all my current first!"   
  
At least I won't get the drink orders mixed up, thought McWhirtley. Here's to an interesting future! 


End file.
